(That photo, above, is right after my first psychotic breakdown, 2016; and right before I lost myself in an eating disorder that plagued my mind, 2017.)
My name is Bri W. and I’m a life-aholic. And by that, what I mean is, I have tried to squeeze every ounce of life out of my 28.5 years on this planet, leaving me exhausted, depleted, and suicidal (gratefully, not anymore). My motto was, for many years, you can sleep when you’re dead. The word, ‘rest’ wasn’t in my vocabulary.
And I have learned, the hard way, that the only true joy comes in God, or loving yourself unconditionally, which I see as intermingling.
TANGENT: I am not one who judges your religion, spirituality, whether you even BELIEVE in God, I simply know that I vibe best with those who see themselves in the grand scheme of life, as a puzzle piece needing other puzzle pieces to be whole (but also uniquely whole in themselves). Needing to be Loved, and Loving in return.
By the time I had graduated college from the University of New Mexico in 2014, I had begun to realize I was running from something. I didn’t know what, at the time. I just knew I was running. So I ran. I ran to live with an ex-boyfriend in the Midwest, I ran overseas to Europe for a year, I ran, literally ran, as best I could with my chronic foot injury.
But by the time I had arrived at the Netherlands airport in 2016, I was reaching/nearing the edge of my cliff, and the response was either jump or turn and face your problems. So I jumped, no, dove, into the illusion that ingesting Magic Mushrooms (legally, in Amsterdam) would ‘heal me of my childhood wounds’.
And from that day in 2016 until 2017 (roughly a year), I lost myself in self-sabotage. I lost friends (not BEST friends, like BCGL…adventures in Amsterdam seen above); I lost job opportunities, but above all, I lost myself. After spending 3 weeks at the psych ward in England, in June 2016, I got back home and had become a shadow of myself.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was about to embark on the worst year of my entire life, to date.
At my scariest I was a mere 115 pounds; too, too thin for someone who is 5’8″. I couldn’t stop, though. I couldn’t stop sabotaging my health, my life, myself, it was an incessant need to control SOMETHING in a way I thought felt comforting and safe.
I’m sitting at this computer right now wondering if I should write the words or share the photo that is on the tips of my fingers, wondering how divulging my life’s story could somehow sabotage my future career plans to be a therapist.
Below is a photo of me when I was 115 pounds, in June 2017. If anything I hope this photo encapsulates the amount of growth I have achieved since that day, when I took that photo.
I won’t claim to have the answers or solution, but I will say that once I relinquished control of my deep hatred of myself, I was able to see Light at the end of the godforsaken tunnel.
My healing is far from complete, but I do know that I have God. From 2016-2017 I was far too depressed and controlling to allow Him into my life.
You are not alone. We are here to heal, we are here to love, we are here to be the beacon of light for each other when there is no hope left in that soul, temporarily. Try to have faith, have fierce, fierce faith in your healing journey.
“…but with God, all things are possible.” ~Matthew 19:26